


the same space for a minute

by orphan_account



Category: McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Eventual Smut, Griffin overcomplicates things, M/M, Nick simplifies them, Pining, Rating May Change, fluff with plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-08 16:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11650038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Griffin tries not to get everything wrong, but gets some stuff wrong anyway: featuring introspection, ramen erotica, and Nintendo franchises.Chapter 2 is my goodbye. It's catharsis. Voila, the world is changed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello folks!!
> 
> it's been a while! this has been rattling around in my brain through a big depresso, but it's finally on its way. hope u enjoy this multi-chapter thing. 
> 
> as usual, this is a fictional universe of my own creation, and don't read this if ur name is anywhere near it, or share it with anyone whose name is near it for the good of all of our health

The longer he has nothing to do, the faster the anticipation Griffin feels turns anxious. While his heart races and his stomach churns, he watches the seconds flick by on his watch, mentally calculating how long it’ll take for Nick to get from JFK to the office in afternoon traffic. He unlocks his phone and checks Twitter, even though he’s already checked three times in the last minute, even though he has alerts on for Nick, _even though_ he doesn’t need a Tweet to know Nick touched down an hour ago because Nick _fucking_ texted him. He locks his phone and stares at the blank screen, scowling when he sees his big stupid worried face in the glass. Waiting sucks. It sucks and he hates it.

_Goddammit._

He’s not sure exactly when or how it happened, but things are different. If he’s honest with himself, it’s always been different with Nick, even before this fragile unspoken _thing_ blossomed between them. Somewhere along the line, he starts to prefer working with him over anyone else. It is so easy to create things with him and laugh with him, to the point that it doesn’t feel like work. It isn’t until Justin points it out that he even notices that his day job is now almost exclusively _working with Nick_. Or podcasting with Nick, Skyping with Nick, then texting Nick in the middle of the night when he can’t sleep.

Through the long months of absence, they grow towards each other, intimacy implicit in every sleepy phone call. It unnerves Griffin that so much goes unsaid between them. They haven’t addressed it, talked about it, they haven’t even – like, it doesn’t have to _mean_ anything, and Griffin wants to be _super_ clear on that, they’re still friends, of course they’re still friends, but – what if actually seeing each other breaks it, what if it doesn’t work anymore, what if –

He shakes his head to clear the thought and breathes out unsteadily, usually a precursor to some light hyperventilation. _Fuck_ anxiety, fuck it to hell.

‘Griffin, you’re tapping again,’ says Simone from the other side of the room, not looking up from her laptop.

‘Shit, sorry.’

‘Want this?’ She holds up a duck with devil horns. ‘Good for stress.’

‘No, thanks, I’m okay, I’ll just – I’ll go to the lounge,’ he sighs, and launches himself up from the office chair. He paces quickly across the room, flicking through apps to find something to quash the anxiety.

_Jesus, why am I so fucking paranoid about this?_

Nick had sent him a link to alarmingly detailed and not at all safe for work Bowser fanart just the day before. They’re fine – they’re fucking great.

Maybe it’s that Griffin’s relationships with most people stay reassuringly the same. Nick is the exception that proves the rule, by attaining the distinction of being the one person in Griffin’s life he can’t predict within a reasonable margin of error. Being Nick’s friend is easy. Everything else? The undercurrent of flirting, of testing boundaries, of finding out just how far they can take it, that’s brought them right to the edge of _something_ even if he isn’t sure what the _something_ is? It freaks Griffin the _fuck out_.

Nick is always going to be right there with him, even as Griffin looks down and they’re too far off the ground and definitely flying, like Icarus, too fucking close to the sun.

Before he makes it to the door of the lounge, there is a commotion behind him among the hotdesks; the exact moment he hears Nick’s voice, the tension in his shoulders melts away as though it was never there. Griffin turns to see Nick surrounded by their excited co-workers. Over their heads, Nick makes eye contact and winks, which is more than enough to confirm what Griffin already knows.

_Yuh-huh, still got it bad._

Trying to ignore the beat his heart skips, he raises his eyebrows in return and fails to keep a dumb goofy grin off his treacherous face. From a distance, he has time to take in the soft curve of Nick’s jaw, undercut shaved shorter than usual, the cute Animal Crossing tee that Griffin secretly covets, jeans that fit _just_ right – and then Nick is walking towards him, and _fuck, he looks so good_. Griffin casts around desperately for regular social interactions suitable for colleagues (Best friends? Relationship non-specified?) that aren’t checking them out.

‘Dope fade, Nicolas.’

‘God, shut up,’ says Nick fondly, and pulls him into a hug.

Their arms wrapped around each other, Griffin tucks his head onto his shoulder and breathes in the familiar powdery, freshly-laundered smell of Nick. At once, the sensation of home flows over him, like stepping into a patch of afternoon sunlight streaming through a window. Detergent and skin has literally never smelt so delicious to Griffin, and he fervently hopes that it’s cool they’re hugging for five seconds while he sniffs in a big old lungful of Robinson fragrance. He holds on tight and tries to communicate all his messy feelings without words.

‘Missed you, Griffin.’

Nick’s voice muffles against him, and his heart aches.

‘Aw, babe, I missed you too,’ he says, too quiet to be funny, but Nick laughs anyway.

‘Fuck, before I forget, my cab driver was wearing a Minions baseball cap and asked if my t-shirt was hentai,’ says Nick as they let go.

‘New York is so very bad,’ replies Griffin earnestly, but Nick shakes his head.

‘I hear ya, but there’s this one really important thing we’re doing this afternoon that can only be done in New York, and I can _only_ do it with you.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Griffin lilts up at the end, knows he’s already flirting and doesn’t care at all, because he meets Nick’s dark eyes for the first time in too fucking long and he feels like he would follow Nick to the end of the world, if he asked him to.

‘We’re going Amiibo shopping.’


	2. national sentence council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this towards the end of july and found it again in my phone notes the other day. it wasn't really intended to be a part of this story, rather it was me getting sidetracked by a comic i was reading where a character is reflecting on how much power we have whether we realise it or not. those lines were:
> 
> "Jesus man it's like we walk around with dynamite in our mouths... built just like regular sentences, these sentences can in an instant transform forever the life of their speaker!"
> 
> it stuck with me, and in light of what happened with nick, it seems like i was on to something here about how he was dealing (or not dealing) with the fact that at some point, we have to fucking grow up and take responsibility for our actions.
> 
> i will be deleting my two fics eventually. at least we were good to each other!

‘Don't you find it really... like, it weighs on you?’ Nick asks.

Griffin looks sidelong at him with a rueful half-smile.

‘You finally got there, huh, bud?’

It stings just a little and Nick stares down at his interlocked fingers, feels his face warm up.

‘You know what I mean... Like, as fucked up as it sounds, I didn't need anything but id and ego and fuckin' like, a good haircut, and now this superego bullshit is like 'literal kids look up to you, moron'.’

‘Oh, Nicolas, Freud me.’

‘Fucking - Griffin, I'm never going to bother having a serious conversation with you ever again,’ says Nick hotly. He flips the bird at Griffin, who laughs, the sound loud in quiet darkness. 

Griffin sighs and settles back on his elbows and stares up at the night sky, cloudless and cold.

‘I just don't like thinkin' about it,’ murmurs Griffin, almost under his breath. He's not looking at Nick, but Nick is looking at him. It feels familiar.

‘It gets to you.’ A statement, not a question, because it's written in the tautness in Griffin's jaw, the crease between his brows that Nick has never seen.

‘God, Nick, like, of course it gets to me. It gets to me... more than I even wanna admit to myself? I already expend a lot of energy just fuckin' sh-ak-ing with anxiety over whether my bullshit is as funny or good or moving as I think it is.’ As it tumbles out, Griffin doesn't break eye contact with the sky. ‘It is unimaginable. It is the heaviest shit and one of the things that I least expected about... all of this.’ 

Silence hangs in the air between them. Nick stares at Griffin's face, wants to reach out and smooth the frown away, but shoves the urge down hard. 

‘You're a good person though,’ says Nick quietly.

‘So are you.’ Griffin looks at him, finally, looks him in the eye, and it's terrifying.

‘But you're literally so...’ he stammers, at the edge of overwhelmed by the fear he feels. ‘Griffin, you're good, and kind, and honest, and I feel like a lot of the time I'm not any of those things and everyone including me is waiting for me to fuck up. There is no way out that isn't fuckin' down, and I - I live in fear of it every damn day.’ 


End file.
